


Feelings Are Fatal

by femmelesbian



Category: Kuroshitsuji : The Most Beautiful DEATH in the World - Iwasaki/Mori/Mari
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Oneshot, alternate universe- 80s, mandatory achilles and patroclus imagery bc Gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-11
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-26 00:56:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15652494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmelesbian/pseuds/femmelesbian
Summary: Alan suspects he might have fallen in love, and has to have some serious words with himself. Eric is gently intolerant of this apparently pointless constraint, but not quite enough. Breakfast becomes a tool for emotional blackmail.





	Feelings Are Fatal

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Newsflash](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13327194) by [femmelesbian](https://archiveofourown.org/users/femmelesbian/pseuds/femmelesbian). 



> this was meant to be in newsflash but it just. didn't happen?? idk i must have forgot abt it or smth which is a shame because this had some Good Character Content but. whatever ckfkkf here she is!

******Date: ______, 1987**   
**Time: 7:27**   
**Location: Average townhouse, where hopefully the neighbours don't gossip**   
**Temperature: When the heat clings to you so you pretend it's another person**

Alan wakes up aching, and surrounded by things he doesn't own.

This is not his bed. This is not his house. This is not his bedding, as comforting as it may smell and as cosily and it might cover his body.

And this is not his man lying next to him.

He sighs, melancholy, the sunlight taunting him as it sneaks through the cracks in the blind. He's done this before- more times than he'd care to admit, actually. He knows the rules of the game, and however disregarding he might be in his everyday life, he knows that these are to be strictly followed. for the good of everyone involved- always know the address, a friend's number, how much money you left the house with, and most importantly,  _no strings attached._

But it's hard to not want to attach yourself to Eric Slingby.

It's _hard_ to not want to be held in his strong arms, even though he knows he probably was on more than one occasion last night.

It's _hard_ to look at him and not be completely overwhelmed at how caring one person can be.

These, Alan assures himself, are universal experiences.

There is  _nothing_  particularly extraordinary in him feeling such an attachment to Eric, he tells himself firmly- there's nothing extraordinary in it, because  _everyone_ does it. Eric just has that  _energy_ about him, and Alan has simply fallen victim to it. 

This will be over in a week.

He just hopes that the same rule applies here as it does in politics- if you repeat a lie enough, it becomes the truth.

Alan is not a liar, and that is something he prides himself on.  _However,_ he also prides himself on having extreme force of will, and he just hopes that the two will come into play sooner rather than later.

Actually, there is very little that Alan doesn't pride himself on. This, however, is something that doesn't fall into this category, and is, ultimately, what keeps Alan humble time and time over.

That's okay, he tell himself. To stay humble is to stay growing.

He considers sitting up, but for once it's not his back that's stopping him (although it is incredibly painful). He just casts a glance at Eric, lying on his back, hair splayed out across his pillow, tiny snores escaping his mouth, and he just looks so  _peaceful_ , it really would be a shame to wake him up.

Alan scowls, more to himself than anyone. What part of 'no strings attached' do you not understand?

Eric feels nothing towards Alan. He knows this. It is something he will have to come to terms with- or, rather,  _would_ have to, if he felt...  _that_ way about Eric.

But he does not.

Because, you see, Alan Humphries is not so careless as to fall for someone who would never feel the same way back. Alan Humphries is too self-respecting, too world-worn, too smart and  _far_ too used to this for something so  _stupid_ to ever happen to him, he tells himself, feeling as if he has to assert his dominance over himself.

Yes. Absolutely. Alan Humphries; Cambridge graduate, junior reporter and fluent in three, does  _not_ get crushes on men who intend to sleep with him once, maybe twice depending on the person, and then continue business as usual. Never has, and never will. 

And he doesn't know that through experience.

 _And,_ he continues to tell himself, his eyes  _obviously_ watering because he's just _tired_ , he does not have a problem with being treated in such a way. He has plenty of other ways that he can feel loved and appreciated should the need arise (not that it ever does), and it's  _not_ like he got his hopes up this once that something would change. It's  _not_ like this meant anything, and it won't ever mean anything. He went in knowing this, proceeded knowing this, and he will leave without challenging this. It really is that simple.

Even if it did mean something (which it doesn't), it's not like Alan wouldn't be able to move on quickly. It's not like he would dwell on it, and he certainlywouldn't wonder, brooding, red wine in one hand, and The Picture Of Dorian Grey in the other, what could have happened if he had taken his chance when presented with it, or not have doubted himself so much that he just sat complacently as it ran past him.

Of course not, because the Alan Humphries is  _anything_ but complacent, Alan Humphries takes what he wants come hell or high water, and Alan Humphries doesn't  _doubt_ himself.

Alan wipes the sleep- yes, it's only  _sleep_ \- out of his eyes, turning over into his side, away from Eric. He sighs.

Eric's sheets smell like cologne. Cheap cologne, but it's good enough. Alan's tastes are more simple than he'd like to admit.

He could quite willingly spend a morning here. Or a whole day. He's already done a night, so no point in mentioning that.

And yes, maybe  he will admit, although he doesn't want to, that his heart aches a little at the fact that he might never find himself here again. In fact, hopefully he'll never be in this situation again, because dear god, did it fuck him up  _bad._

Under different circumstances- unlikely ones, Alan recognises quite clearly- he wouldn't mind it at all.

Maybe his mind is just to convoluted to make sense of anything to do with who he is. Identity is hard when you build it around circumstance, rather than person.

He feels Eric stretch, and immediately pretends to be asleep- He's _not_ scared.

Eric doesn't move again for a while, and Alan tries his best not to wonder what he's thinking about, because  _what if he's thinking about him_ - 

If he's thinking about him, then he's done for.

But he wouldn't be thinking about him. Who does?

"You awake, specs?"

Alan pretends that he's tired as he opens his eyes, like his heart hasn't been hammering away at his chest like it's trying to run away because  _god_ knows he wants to, "Only just." He mumbles, rubbing his eyes.

He hears Eric laugh, and already knows he's done for- That man could stop Achilles on the battlefield with that laugh, and the fact that he's so blissfully unaware is the true power in that, "Breakfast."

"No thanks." Alan says bluntly, sitting up, "Actually, I need to go."

Eric sits up after him, dark eyes forlorn and his mouth turned in concern, hair still a mess from sleep, a strong arm raises to tuck it out the way, and of  _course_ you would fall for him, he chides himself, you're not  _complicated,_ you're not  _special,_  and you're sure as _hell_ not deep,you're just some needy saddo who flings himself at any man can offer a good meal and  makes you feel loved for a while, "But you didn't eat."

Oh, just go ahead and  _shoot him_ , rather than prove that breakfast is, in fact, a military grade weapon.

"I really can't stay." He says again shortly, pulling his shirt on, "I have work to do."

"Well," Eric mumbles, and oh  _yeah_ , that one was the heart breaker- he didn't  _know_ that sad puppies had a tone of voice, and he really could have gone his whole life without knowing, "I suppose you'd best be on your way."

There's a moment of silence that weighs down on them like a ton of bricks.

"I can make you some toast before-"

"No thank you."

"Cereal?"

"I'm, um... lactose intolerant," He lies quickly, pulling his shirt jeans on and checking his back pocket for his wallet, and immediately feels bad, because A, he shouldn't have done this so many times that he has that as a habit, and B, he  _trusts_ Eric, he can't  _believe_ he doubted him for even a moment- just because his feelings are conflicted and the situation is what he'd been avoiding since day one doesn't change the fact that Eric is his  _friend._

He impulsively runs through his mental checklist, despite his best interests- He left with spare change, his usual bag...

All this is proving is that there wasn't an alternate plan. This was  _not_ an accident, however badly he wants it to be. The only thing he's not leaving with that he came with is a sense of dignity, and he should have known that before he even left the house.

"Either way, Ronnie will be worrying..." He tells himself, more than Eric. No matter what, Ronnie was there, armed with good food, kind words, and a shoulder to cry on. There isn't a cure for wounded pride, but there are ways to ease it.

Eric nods, "Well, you can't keep him worrying," He says softy. "Be safe."

Alan nods, his throat tightening up because he  _cares so much_ , but he knows he's not the only one that gets this kind of special treatment, "I'll see you around."

Words left unsaid speak a lot louder than any of that exchange.

Eric smiles weakly at him, "See you soon."


End file.
